“Because we are stable,” the boy replied, an awe-struck tone in his voice.

Only the mechanical sounds of the lab intruded for a minute after that, as the implications sank home to both of them.

“And you have the code?” Skander asked at last.

“I think so, although it goes against my whole being that such equations can be correct. And yet—do you know why that energy does not show by conventional means?” Skander slowly shook his head negatively, and the mathematician continued. “It is the primal energy itself. Look, do you have that filter with you?”

Skander nodded numbly and produced the little case. The boy took it eagerly, but instead of placing it in the microscope he went over to the outer wall. Slowly he donned protective coveralls and goggles, used in radiation protection, and told Skander to do likewise. Then he sealed the lab against entry and peeled back the tent lining in the one place where it covered a port—not used here, but these tents were all-purpose and contained many useless features.

The baleful reddish landscape showed before them at midday. Slowly, carefully, the boy held the tiny filter up to one eye and closed the other. He gasped. “I was right!” he exclaimed.

After a painful half-minute that felt like an eternity, he handed the little filter to Skander, who did the same.

Through the filter, the entire landscape was bathed in a ferocious electrical storm. Skander couldn’t stop looking at it.

“The Markovian brain is all around us,” Varnett whispered. “It draws what it needs and expels what it does not. If we could contact it—”

“We’d be like gods,” Skander finished.

Skander reluctantly put down the filter and handed it back to Varnett, who resumed his own gazing.

“And what sort of universe would you create, Varnett?” Skander almost whispered, reaching under the protective clothing as he spoke and pulling out a knife. “A mathematically perfect place where everyone was absolutely identical, the same equation?”